What Goes Bump in the Dark
by Laatija
Summary: Sheppard falls into yet another dire situation but this time its lights out and he's flying solo...or is he? Shep whump ahead...lots and lots and LOTS of it!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis…boo hiss…**

A/N: This story started when I listening to a commentary and I heard Joe Flanigan say that he wanted his character to explore more of the city and the plot bunnies took over from there…

**What Goes Bump in the Dark**

Explore the city. That's all he wanted to do today. That was it. Period. As much as he _loved_ going off world, the last five missions had ended in either him being shot by the Genii, tossed off a cliff, or being chased by angry half naked villagers…or a combination of the three. But not today. Today, it he was supposed to explore the furthest pier and all the surrounding areas. It was a simple easy task that usually ended in them finding something cool or exciting. Today was perfect. _Was_ being the key word here.

It was perfectly peaceful with Rodney off in his lab and Ronon off 'helping' the newbie's learn some new fighting techniques. It was just him and Teyla. The going was fairly easy despite the damage done to the section. For the better part of the morning, the two of them talked and explored and generally had a good time with the assignment. It was precisely 9:53 am when they came across what appeared to be a class room. He knew it was 9:53 because he had looked at his watch as they crossed the threshold. The room was dingy and musty and the lights flickered rather than turned on. The water damage was clearly evident. Sheppard walked into the middle of the room and glanced around. Teyla waited by the doorway.

"There's nothing in here." John finally concluded. Teyla nodded and moved off to the next room. John started to follow when the horrendous sound of shifting metal hit his ears. He instantly froze. Three things happened at once. The door slammed shut, the ceiling collapsed around it and floor gave way into blackness.

_Now_ the day officially sucked.

There is always a moment, right after the support under your feet drops away and right before you start to fall, when your mind insists that the laws of gravity simply don't apply to you. And then there is the moment right after that. In _that_ moment your mind freezes around the realization that the laws of gravity do in fact apply to everyone. Big surprise there. Only it _is_ a big surprise when in the previous moment you were so convinced that you could float up to the ceiling. In desperate moments, those fleeting ones that you never really remember, the mind dreams up so many hopeful and ridiculous things. It is quite a shock when one realizes that those hopeful and ridiculous things are complete crap. Of course then the disastrous thing, which the mind had hoped to over come, happens and you quite forget to be angry at deceiving yourself. That is of course if you don't have hours to think about what happened while you wait to be rescued.

That was the position John was in now. He was waiting for rescue in darkness. Sometime during the fall, he had lost his radio and his gun and it was far to dark to find either one. He guessed that he had landed in some sort of basement. The fall wasn't so bad. John had landed in about four inches of cold water, twisting his ankle in the process. Other than that, he was relatively fine. All of that was over two hours ago.

John was starting to get bored with the entire situation. The inky blackness was getting to him and he almost thought he was going blind. It was only the glowing digits that read 11:56 on his watch that convinced him otherwise. Finally, he got fed up with it all. Carefully, he pushed himself up and hopped on his good leg. He slowly worked his way forward until he bumped into what felt like a counter top. John felt along this and found things that reminded him of McKay's lab so he guessed that's what this was. A lab in the basement, how very Dr. Frankenstein. His fingers ran along various beakers and instruments. He hissed and jerked back as his finger slid along a bit of broken glass that sliced his skin open. He cursed under his breath.

"Good John, that's just…great. Cut your finger open on some alien Petri dish." He scolded himself. The cut suddenly made him realize that stumbling around in the dark in an alien environment wasn't such a smart thing to do. He found a clear spot on one of the counters and hefted himself onto it, preferring its dry surface to that of the wet floor. Sheppard settled in with a sigh, carefully laying back to stare at what he thought was the ceiling.

It was 12:13 and all he could do now was wait.

-

"Teyla? Wake up!"

She jerked awake. Rodney and Ronon stood over her with worried expressions. Teyla felt along her hairline to find the source of their worry and her discomfort. She could feel a long gash along her forehead. The blood was sticky and almost dry which meant she had been lying here a long time. A headache assaulted her and she groaned.

"Are you alright?" Ronon asked. She glared at him, resisting the urge to shake her head.

"No." Teyla said flatly. Her eyelids slid shut. Rodney was muttering something about concussions but she didn't want to listen to him.

"Teyla!" Ronon growled. "Beckett's almost here, stay awake." She was drifting again. It felt so good to rest and she didn't want to open her eyes again.

"Where's Sheppard?" Rodney asked her. Teyla knew the answer and knew it was something important but her mind was sluggish. "Teyla! Where is Colonel Sheppard?"

"Trapped…" She muttered before sliding into the comfortable darkness.

-

It was 1:28 now. He had been lying there forever it seemed. The darkness was making him nervous now. It was to quiet down here. All he could here was the sound of his own breathing. It was in this type of setting that one was jumped by a monster hiding in the corner. John glanced at his watch again; 1:30. Time was passing far too slowly for his liking. Sheppard hated these kinds of rescues. They left him too open to his own thoughts. Adrenaline was nonexistent because the body knew he didn't need it. For the past three hours John knew just how much his ankle really did hurt. There wasn't anything to mask the pain this time. There was nothing to distract him from the fact that he had heard no sounds of rescue thus far. And on top of it all, his finger throbbed unmercifully and he was starting to sweat which wasn't good considering it was freezing in his basement.

He was really starting to hate the dark. He hated the dark normally. Its not that he was afraid of the dark he just didn't like it. Oh darkness was fine when he was asleep sure but during combat or on missions or when he was stuck in a freaking basement, the darkness sucked. John relied on sight the most. If he could see his surroundings or his enemies, he was fine. In the dark, things could hide and catch you off guard. If you couldn't see, you couldn't fight or protect good enough. For a soldier, darkness was death.

"Ohhh John." A strange voice cut through his thinking. Sheppard froze. His pulse spiked. The voice started singing and he heard a splash off to his left. John's first thought was that he was hallucinating but that was quickly ignored when he felt water drops on his arm. "John? Can you hear me?" The voice came from behind him this time. It was oddly familiar.

"Who are you?" Sheppard demanded. The voice laughed hysterically. "Hey! Who are you!?" John demanded again. The laughing stopped immediately.

"I'm Patrick." The voice was subdued and quiet and came from the other side of the room.

"Patrick? Can you get me out of here?" John asked, suddenly hopeful. There was more splashing.

"Oh John, there's no way out of here! Unless…maybe if you think really hard." Patrick insisted.

"Ok…Lets try this," John growled. "How did you get in here?" Patrick was quiet. "Patrick?"

"Shhh!" The hissed reply came from his right.

"Patrick—"

"Hush! He'll hear you!" Patrick whispered. John stiffened.

"How did you get down here?" John asked in a hushed voice.

"I dunno." Patrick answered. "I've just been here." John inwardly groaned. Now he had another person to save.

"How old are you Patrick?"

"Um…A hundred and elevendy." Patrick said. John rolled his eyes and cursed to himself. The last thing he needed was a child to deal with. Although Patrick's voice sounded like an adult, his word choice was that of child. Perhaps he was retarded.

"Are you 'fraid?" Patrick asked suspiciously.

"No." John said truthfully. "They'll come and rescue us Patrick, don't worry." It crossed his mind then that Patrick might not be human. In the dark, John couldn't figure out what his companion was. John had experienced hallucinations before and this didn't feel like one. Although, he could be hallucinating that he was fine. But that thought was just depressing.

He could only hope that Patrick was friendly. It was still a mystery as to how Patrick even got down here. Perhaps he had always been down here. Perhaps it wasn't even a 'he'. It unnerved John at how much he just didn't know right now. All because of the darkness. He glanced at his watch; 1:47.

**TBC…. Please read and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Just a side note for those who read the first chapter right after I posted it, sorry that it was one big jumbled mess, wouldn't display the cool divider thing that I had going on… its fixed now and makes much more sense. OK, done babbling, ON TO THE STORY!

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Ronon threw his weight backward, wrenching a piece of rubble lose. He kicked at it with disdain then went to work on the next big chuck of rubble. Anger was fueling his struggle. The damage was devastating, blocking off the main walkway from his futile efforts. Rodney just sat to the side yelling unmercifully at his LSD.

"You are a piece of JUNK!" He hit the thing again as if bullying it would produce the desired results.

"McKay!" Ronon suddenly shouted. "Are you sure he's not—"

"Yes! I am sure. There is too much debris blocking the signal. There must be something in these walls that messes with the life signs detector."

"But how do you kn—"

"I _know_ because if I broaden the search field, I can't even get the sea creatures beyond this wall. He is NOT dead." Rodney insisted. Ronon glared at him then continued working. Rodney stared at the life signs detector for a moment then slapped his radio.

"Major Lorne! Where are you?" He demanded angrily.

"Almost there Dr.McKay. Sorry it took so long, we had to find the right equipment." Lorne's voice crackled over the radio.

"Tell that to the colonel." Rodney snapped.

------

"And then I went and milked a wild camel—"

"Patrick!" John finally yelled. "Shut. Up." The talking ceased immediately. John sighed. His new companion had talked about complete nonsense non stop for half an hour. Sheppard liked a random comedy as much as the next person but this was just torture. At least the boy…thing…whatever listened as good as it talked.

Sheppard shivered violently. He sorely wished he had a jacket with him. And maybe some pain killers. Pain was starting to annoy him now. Without the heat of a battle to distract him, pain was at the forefront of his mind. His finger and ankle throbbed in time with his heart beat which was dangerously slow. It suddenly occurred to him that his head was hurting too. And he was exhausted. John's eye lids kept trying to slide shut and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep them open in the darkness.

Patrick was splashing around in front of him now. "Are you ok? You look like you've been buried in a box full of peas for three days…

"Buried in what? Wait… Patrick, can you see me?" A spike of hope shot through him.

"Well of course I can see you…I'm not a blind whale! I can see you and the floor and the tree and the duck and the pair of scary eyes behind you." Patrick explained.

"What scary eyes behind me?" A spike of fear came up and brutally murdered his previous hope. John pivoted on his countertop and searched the darkness. His companion screamed.

"Patrick! Patrick, what's going on?!" John yelled. Patrick stopped screaming and a series of splashes skirted the room and came up behind Sheppard. Patrick groaned quietly from the far end of the room. John pulled out his knife and held it ready. He scooted around and around, straining to find some glimpse of the new danger.

"Patri—

"What's wrong Johnny boy?" A deep rough voice hissed low behind him. John whipped around, knife slashing through the air. The speaker shoved him violently. John toppled off of the counter and smacked painfully into a wall. A mocking gruntal laugh filled the air as did the sickening scent of decay and death.

"Ooohhh Johnny." The voice sighed. "You _idiot_. You sniveling little coward. Why can't you just _die_?" The last word was whispered in his ear. Something curled around John's neck, two prongs biting into it and feeling much to like an Iratus bug. John panicked.

His watch blinked out in the darkness; 2:28 pm.

-------

Rodney typed furiously on his laptop, muttering things to himself and whoever would listen. Finally he found what he was looking for. "Yes! I got it!" He yelled. Everyone stopped and looked at him. "In ways you could not possibly understand, I was essentially able to tweak the field of the LSD so it would be able to penetrate what ever is in these walls." Rodney explained excitedly.

"And?" Weir asked.

"I found him!" McKay yelled jubilantly. A collective sigh spread among those working desperately to save the colonel. It was a welcome bit of good news. For several hours, men and women had been working non stop to dig out the debris blocking the passageway but no matter how much rubble they moved, it never seemed to get them anywhere. Someone had made the suggestion of tunneling in from the floor above and Weir had sent a team to work on it. That had been an hour ago and little progress had been made.

"Lets pick up the pace people." Elizabeth ordered. She was answered in a chorus of 'Yes Ma'ams'. A touch on her shoulder startled her and Weir turned to find Teyla sitting in a wheelchair behind her. "Teyla, how are you feeling?" She asked.

"I feel fine. Dr. Keller has insisted that I remain in the wheelchair as a precaution." Teyla explained. A big white bandage encompassed her forehead. Elizabeth winced.

"You really should be resting Teyla." She scolded. "But, since I know that you won't get any rest anyway, I won't make you. But stay in that chair or Dr. Keller will kill us both."

"Thank you Dr. Weir." Teyla said. "Though I wish to help."

"I know, but he wouldn't want you to hurt yourself to save him. We have enough people." Elizabeth insisted.

"We must hurry. I do not know what it is but I feel that something is wrong." Teyla said. Weir nodded.

"I know…I know."

------

"John? John wake up!" Patrick shook him hard. John's eyes snapped open and were met with black. He blinked a few times to be sure they were open. John was lying on his back in freezing water. His neck throbbed painfully, bringing back the memories of his attack.

"What happened?" John asked around a groan. Patrick sloshed around him.

"I dunno." Patrick said simply. "Mörder left."

"Mörder… Where did he go?" John asked as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"I dunno."

"Great…" John leaned his head back and sighed. He wondered why he was alive in the first place. Something in the voice of his attacker said that he was, without a doubt, going to kill him. What had made him stop? Obviously John had passed out from lack of air before dying so had Mörder simply thought he was dead and left? That seemed unlikely as Mörder's fingers were shoved into John's neck and probably could feel the pulse. Unless those weren't his fingers… "Patrick, what does this guy look like?" John asked.

"Ummm… big and scary?"

"Great… that helps a lot." John rolled his eyes.

"Did he hurt you?" Patrick asked.

"I'm fine." John said automatically.

"You're bleeding."

"It's nothing, I'm fine." John insisted. Actually, he thought the dampness on his neck was only water. Only now did it register that he was bleeding however slightly. The blood didn't worry him but it sounded like Patrick was starting to panic. That was something John couldn't handle. He had enough on his plate with Mörder still being out there and the last thing he needed was for Patrick to hurt himself when the bad guy came back. It was time for him to assume the role of protector.

"You got a family Patrick?" Sheppard asked as cheerfully as he could.

"No." Patrick said sadly.

"Oh…You have any friends?"

"She died. I couldn't save her." He said meekly.

"Are you alone down here?"

"Mörder doesn't count?" Patrick asked.

"No, he doesn't count."

"Yeah…" Patrick's voice trailed off into a sniffle.

John's heart went out to the poor creature. "When we get out of here Patrick, I'll show you what a friend is."

"You got friends?" Patrick asked hopefully, almost disbelieving.

"Oh yeah, I have lots of friends. A lot of them will be your friends too. How does that sound?"

Patrick was quiet for a few moments and John could just imagine the wheels turning in his mind.

"Mörder's going to kill you isn't he?" Patrick asked quietly. John was stunned for a moment. He thought he could hear anger in the question. Or perhaps regret.

"No, he is not going to kill me." John said firmly. But as he thought about it he realized Mörder could very easily kill him and John could do little about it.

"He couldn't kill you before but he will." Patrick insisted. Sheppard could tell by the sound of the water that Patrick was pacing; something that John often did when he was thinking through a problem.

"He's not going to kill you _or_ me. Do you understand me Patrick?"

Patrick was silent. In the quiet, John could hear a new noise. It was a high pitched electronic noise, like the sound his computer made when he turned it on. Without any means to discover the source of the noise, he dismissed it.

"So is there anyone else down here that I should know about?" John asked sarcastically. He almost didn't want to know. There was no answer. "Patrick? You there?" Still no answer. John decided to just drop it as he had lost almost all of his energy. _That_ disturbed him because that meant that something was seriously wrong with his body. He glanced down at his watch and groaned. He felt along the watch face and found it shattered. John angrily wrestled it off and chucked it as hard as he could.

"That's just perfect!" He groused into the darkness.

"Awww is Johnny boy upset." Mörder's voice cut through the darkness from the other side of the room. He chuckled mockingly. Sheppard stiffened. He had to think fast if he were to beat this guy. Trouble was, not only was he virtually blind, Mörder was also really quiet. Unless he was talking.

"Yeah, you broke my watch." John snapped. "Not to mention putting two holes in my neck _and_ nearly choking me to death. What do you want Mörder?" Sheppard went for the direct approach instead of pussy footing around. Mörder snorted disapprovingly. John turned his head in the direction of the noise.

"Shame I couldn't finish the job. And the sheep boy has found my name. Clever. But you cheated. Taking advice from the cowardly lion over there doesn't win you any points." Mörder scolded. John crept forward as he spoke, carefully aiming for the direction of the voice.

"Cheated? Are we playing a game here? Cause I think you're seriously messed up. Look, I don't want to be down here and I'm sorry if I disturbed you or anything and if you want me to leave, just show me the way out." Sheppard growled. Mörder laughed again.

"We're stuck here cowboy whether you like it or not. There is no way out Johnny boy thanks to your little waltz around the room upstairs. You should be ashamed of yourself! The big ol' hero out to save the day screws up his life just by walking across the floor. You ain't a hero and you never will be. You just had little lady luck on your side and guess what, she hates you now. Of course we're playing a game idiot. Life _is_ a game boy. And you _lose_." Mörder's voice dropped down to a sinister tone. Then he growled low…right next to John. "Lets try this one more time." He suddenly yelled. John stumbled to the side but his attacker was too fast. Mörder rammed into him with an outstretched palm to the chest in a disturbingly wraith like fashion. Clawed fingers dug into John's skin then backed away with the hand as Mörder struck again and again. Sheppard could feel his ribs snapping and his heart stuttering as the pounding attack threw it off beat. John groped around in the water for his knife. As his fingers curled around the hilt, Mörder hissed and stopped attacking. John could hear him splashing away. He lay panting on the flooded ground, waiting for his heart to calm and the pain to ease. He felt light headed and imagined his vision would be going dark had it not been pitch black to begin with.

John simply lay there, waiting for something else to happen. The waiting was killing him, almost literally. Time ceased to be in his black prison. Agony seeped into his soul. John's eyes slid shut and his mind slipped into a darkness all its own.

--------

**TBC**

A/N: Ok fine! I'll acknowledge Carson's absence but under protest… Eventually I'll get around to Elizabeth too… I actually like Dr.Keller cuz I just recently discovered that the chick who plays her was Kaylee on Firefly (who just so happens to be one of my favorites on that show…)

What are your thoughts on that subject?


	3. Chapter 3

Ten hours. That's how long they had been working. Ten long, agonizing hours. Twenty soldiers, technicians and the odd scientist were working non stop to brake through the wall of ruble. Teyla helped to organize their efforts and rallied the last few people who weren't needed elsewhere to help bring down needed supplies to the workers.

The only thing that kept them going was the little blip on the life signs detector. Only it was just any blip. It was Colonel John Sheppards blip. The same Colonel Sheppard who saved the world several times over. The same Colonel Sheppard to whom everyone in Atlantis owed their lives to. The same Colonel Sheppard they were desperately trying to save.

---------

Something was tapping on his face. John tried to move away from it but the tapping followed him. "Ooooh Johnny… Wake up!" The taps turned into a rough slap and Sheppard jerked up. "Rise and shine morning glory." Mörder cackled. John inwardly groaned. Mörder was shredding his mind and his nerves with each promise of death. He thought he should be more confidant as Mörder had yet to kill him but the extreme and opposite emotions that came with each attempt were putting a constant strain on his psyche. A rare, cold and hopeless fear always came a split second before the body shut down completely. Then an equally rare ecstasy came with the discovery of a new lease on life. The chemical reactions alone reeked havoc on his weary body. The psychological effects were monstrous.

John felt sick to his stomach.

"Wha…what do you want?" He slurred.

"I want you to die boy." Mörder growled.

"Why don't you just do it already?! Quit toying with me." John snapped.

"You really are stupid ain't you?" Mörder snorted patronizingly, if such a thing were possible. Sheppard ignored him.

"Look, do what you want with me but don't hurt Patrick." John said firmly, seeking to take some control of the situation.

"I make no promises. Pop quiz fly boy, who single handedly woke the wraith and doomed us all?" Mörder asked sarcastically. He was moving around, walking away from John.

"Are you trying the guilt trip thing on me?" Sheppard growled. He hated the inferior feeling this guy gave him. His enemy was arrogant but this time, he had every right to be. John was helpless.

"I ain't _trying_ to do anything. You feel guilty enough as it is every time you look into the dead eye sockets of the men who were sucked dry because of a wraith that _you_ woke up. And let's not forget your buddy Ford. Now that's a guilt induced ulcer waiting to happen. Should I even mention the Genii? You think saving a pip squeak like Patrick is gonna clear your slate?" Mörder scolded arrogantly.

"My guilt has nothing to do with Patrick. He doesn't deserve to be down here with you and I just want to help him out." John snapped. Anger was starting to cloud his judgment but he didn't care. Mörder had crossed a line.

"He doesn't deserve it?" Mörder laughed. "You don't know who Patrick is! Boy, you're thicker then I thought. You're a blind bat down here Johnny. In the dark, mentally and physically. For all you know, Patrick is a mass murderer who'll kill ya'll and take over your precious city. You ever think about that cowboy?"

John was seething. But Mörder was right. He knew nothing about Patrick but John was having trouble caring.

"I can tell from your silence that you're more of an idiot than I thought." Mörder chuckled. Sheppards anger pushed back the pain until it was a dull throb. He rocked forward and eased himself up to his feet. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do but he felt the need to do something. Anger was giving him a strange kind of energy and he consumed it. John crept forward as quietly as possible. Then he froze as the all too familiar barrel of his P-90 was shoved against the back of his head.

"Goodnight John Boy."

Sheppard squeezed his eyes shut instinctively, despite the darkness. As he automatically resigned himself to dying, something in his psyche snapped. His mind went blank and he acted on instinct alone. John let his leg muscles relax and he dropped down, rolling to the side at the same time. Mörder growled. The butt of the gun smashed down on John's shoulder. He grunted but ploughed forward into what he hoped was Mörder. He failed miserably as Mörder kicked him viciously in the face. John felt the cartilage in his nose shatter. He dropped solidly to the ground, dazed. Any anger induced energy instantly drained out of his body.

There was no more fanfare, no more talk.

Mörder grabbed him by the neck. John didn't struggle, couldn't even though he wanted to. He felt like his limbs were full of iron. John hated to admit it but he was completely powerless and Mörder seemed to know it. There was one sliver of hope that Mörder wouldn't kill him seeing as how he didn't the first two times. However, John knew that it wouldn't take much this time around to do it.

Mörder tightened his grip completely cutting off Johns air supply. He squirmed and pulled feebly at the arm as he choked. John could _feel_ his body shutting down as his heart pumped oxygen deprived blood into his weary limbs. He was afraid. He didn't want to die. John was willing to die for his friends sure but still was a frightening thing when one was face to face with it.

Mörder was laughing. John could barely hear it. He felt his body being flung against the wall but the pain didn't register. Then suddenly, the hand around his neck was gone. He gasped, inflating his lungs with precious air. A fit of coughs erupted as pain flared up in his badly abused throat. John didn't care; he kept sucking in the air and enjoyed every moment of it.

As his breathing regulated, he heard sounds of fighting at the other end of the room. There was a great crash and someone screamed in an alien voice. A defiant roar chased after it. John suddenly remembered Patrick. He scrambled to his feet but his legs gave out and he fell face first into the water. A horrendous metallic screech filled the air, gaining volume for a few moments before drifting away. John stared into the dark, chest heaving with labored breath. Someone was walking towards him and judging by the sound of it, that someone was limping.

John could only hope it was Patrick but something in his gut told him otherwise. He pushed himself into a sitting position and backed away as far as he could. Two strong arms hefted John up. He flinched and moaned as broken ribs grated against raw nerves.

"Sorry…" A distorted voice mumbled.

"Who…who are you?" John asked wearily.

"Patrick."

"Patrick? What happened? Are you ok?" Sheppard rambled as he was set on a hard dry surface.

"Mörder is dead." Patrick said in an eerie two toned voice.

"Did he hurt you?" John demanded. His pain was increasing, forcing its way into the forefront of his consciousness.

"He's dead." Patrick insisted.

"Ok I get it, good job. Now how are you? You don't sound too good."

"Mörder is dead."

"Patrick—" John gasped as his chest suddenly exploded in pain. It was a catalyst to the rest of his injuries as they erupted in agony. John fought for control of his senses but he was being quickly overwhelmed. He groaned past clenched teeth. Then he suddenly realized that it wasn't worth it. If Mörder was dead then he could finally afford to be unconscious.

John let go.

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**TBC!!**

_Just as a heads up, I got a paper for school due soon so I might not be able to update for a while (a while being a week but no more than that I hope)_

_Oh and please please please review!! I mean, come on there are 16 who have sighed up for story update alerts. If you are that interested in this story, lemme know why! And please, if there is anything that should/could be fixed/improved do tell, it would help me a lot!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: At last, your questions will be answered!! Though I must say that as far as I know, none of you have even guessed what Patrick might be…you've come up with a few ideas that I was playing with but not one of you(as far as I know) actually guessed what it was! Well, I guess that was more my fault as my clues were a bit to hard to decipher...but they were there honest…Ok, I'm done babbling now…_

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"Take a brake everyone!" Dr.Keller yelled, able to project her voice to fill the hallway. Weary workers groaned and it was hard to decipher whether it was from gratitude or frustration. Hesitantly, they all laid down various tools and meandered over to cooler filled with bottles of water, the kitchen staffs show of support. Only one man was still working on the wall of rubble.

"Ronon Dex, I will _not_ have two people in my infirmary!" Keller scolded.

"Ronon! You must rest." Teyla insisted. The big man shot a deadly look down at the two women. Teyla rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the worried expression on her face as Ronon couldn't hide the exhausted droop in his shoulders. Finally, he stopped and glared at the ceiling. Then he let loose a frustrated yell and kicked at one particularly stubborn piece of metal. There was a loud metallic squeal and it suddenly slid backwards, dislodging more rubble in the process until there was a small avalanche of the stuff tumbling down. People scrambled out of the way with shouts of alarm.

"Ronon!" Teyla yelled, fearing the worse as a thick cloud of dust billowed up to blind them all. At first she could hear nothing but the sound of heavy debris shifting and settling and people coughing. "Ronon?!" There was still no answer and Teyla was starting to panic.

"I'm through!" Ronon finally shouted. "Someone bring me a light." He demanded then coughed. Teyla shot up out of her chair and grabbed the nearest flash light, ignoring Dr.Keller's orders. Rodney was right behind her. Ronon squeezed through a smallish hole. He grabbed a flash light then dropped down into the inky darkness. The drop was a lot longer then he thought which made him think this space was below sea level. The fact that it was flooded only served to encourage that thought. The light beam swept around a vast space filled with various bits of lab equipment. He heard someone splashing around.

"Sheppard?" Ronon whipped the light around. Years of running had fine tuned his senses and now his senses were telling him something was wrong. McKay and Teyla sloshed up behind him and started searching the room with their lights. Rodney's light landed on a pile of crumpled up metal parts and gears and electronic things that hissed and sputtered in the water.

"I wonder what that was…" Rodney muttered.

"Colonel Sheppard?!" Teyla yelled. Her voice seemed to be muffled by the thick blackness. Rodney glanced down at the life signs detector.

"This way." He said, walking in another direction. He couldn't hide the worry in his voice or the quickness to his steps. The man was alive but something was wrong or he would have answered them long ago. Rodney tapped his radio. "Send down a med team." He ordered to whom ever was listening. It would take them awhile to get down here and Rodney had a feeling they shouldn't wait.

There was a distant splash in front of them. The little blip on the LSD moved.

"Sheppard!" McKay yelled out, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

"Stay away!" An eerie two toned voice shouted out angrily. The voice was most definitely not Sheppard's. The three froze, completely taken off guard by this new twist. Teyla was the first to react.

"We mean you no harm." She assured. Three light beams frantically began searching the room. "We only seek to find our friend." Teyla wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying; she only wanted to sound non-threatening.

"You…you are looking for a friend?" The person asked hesitantly. "You are John's friends?" The speaker was still hidden in shadow and seemed to like it that way, noisily avoiding the light. But Ronon was closing in.

"Yes! Yes, we are friends of John." Teyla said. A cold feeling was creeping up on her. If there was only one life sign…

"Can…can you be my friend too?" The person asked from the darkness. Teyla whipped the light around and finally, the beam caught something. That something was hunched over in the furthest possible corner.

Ronon growled and started for it. "What the—"

"It's a freakin droid!" McKay shrieked in surprise. A dark metallic body was hunched over a soggy wet lump that looked too much like John Sheppard's dead body. A 'hand' was shielding its 'eyes' from the probing lights. The thing was mostly black and was most certainly _not_ humanoid. They could only stare at it for a few moments. Then Ronon started forward. The robot shifted nervously and peered over its raised hand. Ronon leveled his gun at the thing and continued his slow advance. The robot backed up a few steps and gently pulled John's body with him.

"You are holding a weapon…" The suspicious voice came from the robot. Its hands had dropped down close to Sheppard. Teyla slid up next to Ronon and slowly pushed his gun down.

"We mean you no harm." She said gently. Her eyes flicked over John and took in the bloodied, broken face and dangerously pale complexion that was made even more alarming in contrast to the dark surroundings. His chest rose and fell lopsidedly which said that something was wrong with his lungs. "We've come to help John." Teyla explained. The robot looked at her then glanced down at Sheppard. The tension was growing to unbearable levels. There was a loud bang from some shifting metal and three nervously dancing lights whipped over in the direction of the noise. When they focused again on the robot, it was standing taller and clumsily holding a very limp man in its arms. It glanced around nervously and kept trying to back away into the wall. Teyla held her hands out in the most non threatening gesture she could muster.

"Peace." She cooed. "It was nothing. What are you afraid of?"

"I killed him!" Came the immediate reply. "He's dead, I killed him…"

"Who did you kill?" Teyla asked, an eyebrow raised in alarm.

"Mörder." The robot said the name with sheer malice. "He wanted to kill John so I killed him." There were no moving parts to indicate a mouth so the hateful words came out of what appeared to be a speaker on its face.

Teyla glanced at her two companions. Rodney's face was scrunched up.

"If there was this thing down here, I guess there could have been two of them…" McKay muttered to himself. Teyla shushed him.

"Do you have a name?" She asked the robot who had tightened its grip on John's body.

"Patrick." It said plainly.

"Patrick," Teyla smiled. "You saved John from Mörder, would you like to help him still?" The robot stood taller at that prospect.

"Yes." It said firmly.

"Then you need to give him to us." She insisted. Patrick crouched down a little and turned slightly to shield the man from the others. Teyla inwardly cursed. "Ok, Patrick, would you carry him for us? We need to get him out of here."

"No way out." Patrick stated sadly. "Ain't no way out."

"We have found a way out Patrick." Teyla said. The robot shook its head and stared at the floor.

"This is ridiculous!" Rodney growled. "You will kill him if you stay down here." He shouted at the robot. Patrick whipped his head up to stare at Rodney. Ronon was inching forward again, his hand twitching against his blasters side. Teyla could feel the anger swelling up in her teammates behind her and apparently, so could Patrick. The droid was sliding along the wall, half carrying half dragging Sheppard's limp form as he tried to get away from the three intruders.

"Patrick, do you want to kill him?" Teyla challenged. Patrick froze completely, staring at the floor. Silence stretched out for several minutes until Ronon had had enough. He brought his gun up, ready to shoot the robot. Patrick suddenly raised his head.

"How do we get out?" He asked.

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TBC but only for one more chapter I'm afraid

If you want to see what Patrick looks like go to my homepage...its not my own work(cuz I'm a terrible artist) but anywho, go to my homepage to see Patrick (it'll be the only robot pic on there)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter is a little short but at least it's something right? And ok, maybe this isn't the last chapter…maybe there will be a few more…

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Rodney watched in a childish awe that was ill fitting of the situation but he couldn't help himself. The droid moved slowly, its right 'foot' dragging in the water as it was barely attached to the rest of limb. It was a pathetic sight as it hobbled forward while it held the limp man in its hands. It walked past them for a few feet before stopping and turning to look at them.

"Where do I go?" It asked them. Ronon splashed forward.

"Follow me." He ordered. Rodney found it interesting that the robot had such an advanced artificial intelligence that it acted like a real child, thinking through its problem and asking questions. It even answered to a name. McKay snapped himself out of his scientific drooling by glancing at the injured pilot in the robots arms. The situation suddenly got frantic for him. He suddenly wanted to rush the robot.

"Move faster." He snapped. Patrick's head whipped around to look at him.

"Rodney!" Teyla yelled. "Leave him be." She warned. Rodney's head bobbed up and down as he suddenly realized the danger of the situation. If the droid panicked, there was no telling what it could do. "Continue Patrick." She said to the robot.

It took them a few minutes to get to the hole in the ceiling and another ten minutes just trying to figure out how to get the robot through it. It was precious time that John did not have. Even after they had gotten Patrick into the hallway, they still had the problem of getting John to the infirmary. The robot still refused to let John go and almost bolted when they tried to take the man from its arms. Teyla was the only one who could manage to talk to the thing as if it were alive. She calmed it down and got it to sit on a gurney seeing as how it was having trouble walking. Ronon and several nurses started to push the gurney away.

"Teyla." Dr. Keller stopped her before she could run after the others. "We need to figure out how to get that robot to let go of the Colonel _before_ we reach the infirmary." Her eyes held a message that neither woman really wanted to say.

Sheppard could die if this didn't happen.

"I _will_ find a way." Teyla said firmly.

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Pain. That was at the forefront of his mind. Nothing but pain. Pain spiked from his ankle up through his chest then to his neck and finally his head. _But wait, shouldn't I be unconscious?_ For some reason, his body decided that he needed to be awake. But the funny thing about bodies is that they don't know that multitasking is a bad thing sometimes. For example, his body currently didn't know that it was supposed to turn off the pain receptors before waking him up. Regardless, he was being jolted into the world of the living whether he liked it or not.

Sheppard searched for other things besides his own pain to grasp on to. Like movement. He was moving along pretty rapidly and his own legs were pretty much jelly so that meant that someone was moving him. A steady pressure was present along his arms and sides. He could hear people shouting and yelling to each other all around him and he wanted to tell them to shut up. John didn't get any further than a pathetic moan. Something bumped him and one of the voices said something to him. Then he suddenly realized that his eyes were shut when that someone tried to pry them open and shine a light in them. The sudden, harsh brightness felt like a drill boring into his light deprived eyes. He yelped in pain and his head involuntarily jerked to the side. Another attempt was made at forcing his eyes open and he squirmed, mentally begging it to stop. Then he heard a familiar two toned voice and felt himself being twisted to one side. The movement sent shafts of pain shooting into his already pain filled chest. His brain finally overloaded and sent him back into the black.

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Teyla watched from a distance as a nurse climbed up onto the moving gurney and began checking vitals and attaching various IVs to the limp man. She tried to open his eyes and he suddenly yelped and jerked. The robot was instantly on the alert. When the nurse tired again, it pushed her away and turned around to shield John's body from her. Teyla groaned as she realized that Patrick wasn't going to let go of Sheppard anytime soon. She trotted up to Ronon.

"We need to disable the robot." She said, talking low so Patrick wouldn't hear.

"When?" Ronon asked.

"When we reach the infirmary." Even as she said that, the infirmary doors came into view. Ronon grunted. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Ronon jerked the gurney back. "Everybody move!" He shouted, brandishing his blaster. The nurses jumped back and before Patrick could fully understand what was going on, Ronon, switching the gun to stun, fired a shot into the base of the things skull. The robot gave an eerie scream and reared back. Teyla darted in and pried the heavy metal hands off of John's body and pulled him off onto another waiting gurney that was whisked away. The robot writhed as unseen circuits overloaded and shorted out. Finally with a pathetic gurgle, it went limp and tumbled off of the gurney amidst the wide eyed gazes of people with nothing better to do then stare.

Rodney sighed wearily and squatted down to look at the robot. Then he snapped his fingers at two marines walking by. "You two, take this down to my lab." He ordered. Without waiting for an answer, he stormed off to find chair. This was something he was used to; waiting in the infirmary. It seemed like someone from the team was always in the infirmary. By now, Rodney new exactly where all the folding chairs were stored. He found one of the few padded ones and parked himself outside of the doors to the operating room.

Now they would wait.

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**TBC!**

**A/N: Am I going to have to beg again? Please please PLEASE leave a review!! Ya'll have no excuse not to…well…ok maybe you do…but just being lazy isn't one!! Review darn you!!**


	6. Chapter 6

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_John was running. Running in the dark. M__ö__rder was laughing; the noise of it reverberating off the walls and coming at him from all sides. He ran faster but M__ö__rder's voice continued to haunt him. A cold oily feeling snaked down his back and he felt a hot breath on his neck that smelled of sulfur. _

_John tripped and fell forward, landing heavily on his hands and knees. M__ö__rder_ _rushed in to pin him to the floor. Sharp claw dug into John's shoulders, scraping against bone with a brutal intensity that made him scream in pain. _

"_Die now…" M__ö__rder growled low. "DIE NOW!!!" He screamed._

Sheppard shot upwards, yelling. Something heavy pushed him back down and he fought it, his fist coming in contact with something fleshy. His hands were held down and he struggled against them. Pain erupted as he struggled but it only spurred him on.

"Sheppard!" Someone yelled. Someone that sounded like McKay. "Cut it out! Calm down!"

A gentle hand suddenly gripped his face and held it still. "Colonel Sheppard? It is Teyla, you must calm down or you will injure yourself further." Realization crashed in around him.

His team had found him. Mörder was gone. With a shuddering sigh, he relaxed into the soft infirmary bed.

"Colonel Sheppard, can you open your eyes for me?" The new voice belonged to Dr. Keller. Could he open his eyes? Well, he assumed so. In fact, John didn't even realize his eyes were shut to begin with. Yes, he could open his eyes…or so he thought. John's eyes flicked open then snapped shut again as light streamed in to greet them. He groaned against the assault of a headache. He felt like he had the worst possible hangover in the history of forever.

"I know it hurts Colonel," Said Keller. "but it's going to hurt a lot more later if you don't get used to the light now. Let me open them real quick ok? I need to check for a concussion." Her voice was calming and non-threatening. John nodded his head once. She pried his eye lids open for a few seconds and shined a pen light in them, and then she let them snap shut again. "Good Colonel. Rodney, can you dim the lights for me? Now try opening your eyes Colonel." She ordered. Sheppard opened them carefully and was pleased to find the room darker. He glanced at the tense faces of his team as they crowded in around his bed. Dr. Keller was smiling gently. She injected something into his IV port and drifted away to other things.

John swallowed and winced as his throat started to ache. But just as soon as the pain reared up, it was pushed back down again thanks to the powerful meds in his IV. Those same powerful meds were also making him drowsy. Sleep was fast approaching and John wanted to talk with his team before that happened.

"Hey…" John mumbled to his team. Rodney just nodded and Ronon said nothing, holding an ice pack to a newly forming bruise around his left eye. Teyla smiled.

"How are you feeling?" She asked. John shrugged, just now taking stalk of how he felt. The medication was doing a great job in dulling the pain but he managed to pinpoint the throb in his chest and ankle.

Rodney scowled. "You nearly scared us to death yet _again_ Sheppard!" He snapped. John scowled back.

"Wha di' I do?!" He asked drunkenly.

"You just collapsed your lung and nearly died!"

"I dn't do that M'Kay, Mörder did." John snapped…or tried to as his lips didn't want to work properly. Despite his drugged up state, John remembered clearly what Mörder did to him. He was sick of being blamed for things.

Rodney hesitated, hearing the venom in John's voice. "So there really was a Mörder?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

Now it was John's turn to hesitate. "Wasn't there?"

"Well…I mean we did find the one but…so there were two?" McKay seemed to perk up a bit at that thought. John suddenly remembered his savior.

"Where's Patrick?!" He demanded, being careful to enunciate every word. "Is he ok?" The others exchanged an awkward glance. A sickening feeling slowly crawled into his gut. "What's wrong with him?" John asked in a more subdued voice.

"Nothing." Rodney claimed, lying unconvincingly. John knew something was up and he was afraid to find out what it was.

"Where's he?" John asked. He attempted to sit up, ignoring the searing pain through his chest. Teyla intercepted his attempt and pushed him back down gently. "Where is he?!" Sheppard demanded again.

"In the um…in my lab…" Rodney stuttered. "Do…do you know what he is?"

Various monitors started beeping more rapidly as John started to panic. He didn't know exactly why but he was panicking. It probably had something to do with the fact that his nerves were completely shattered. In any event, Rodney's nervous question was not comforting. John was having trouble breathing. He clutched at his burning chest and gasped for air. As darkness edged in around his vision, Sheppard couldn't shake the feeling that Mörder was behind him again, squeezing the air out of his chest. He was killing him…again.

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Teyla watched in horror as Sheppard fought desperately for breath. Dr. Keller rushed in with a team of nurses as they worked to save the man thrashing about on the bed.

"Get them out of here!" Keller yelled to a nurse. That nurse ushered Teyla, Rodney, and Ronon out into another room then darted back the way she came. They stood around and stared at each other, dumb founded. After an agonizing ten minutes, Dr. Keller came out to talk to them.

"He's fine." She assured them. "He had a panic attack from what I can see. What did you tell him?" Her voice took on an angry tone. She caught herself and held up a hand. "Never mind, but he can't have any visitors for a while… got it?"

The others nodded. Rodney opened his mouth to protest but stopped when Ronon hit him on the arm. The scientist huffed. "I'll be in my lab." He snapped as he walked away.

Ronon glanced at Teyla who cocked an eyebrow. "He might need some help with that robot." She mused. Ronon nodded, his eyebrows nit together in thought.

"I'm going back to see if I can find the other one." He said firmly.

"Be careful."

"Always."

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**TBC!** Don't you dare make me beg for reviews this time or else _(scary music)_…


	7. Chapter 7

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"What have you got so far?" Rodney demanded as he stomped into his lab. Zelenka glanced up at him.

"We have reattached the right foot and I believe that I have repaired the voice box." He replied jubilantly.

"Voice box?" McKay gave him a strange look.

"For lack of a better term." Zelanka explained. The other man just rolled his eyes.

"Whatever…have you been able to figure out how to reboot this thing yet?"

"Well, we've been able to take off the layers of exoskeleton to expose the circuits and they seem to be pretty fried. I have people trying to patch in new circuits but it has not been easy, this system is very complex." The Czech shoved a computer into McKay's hands as he talked. "Its cranial structure is amazing. Its cortex is as complex as a human brain if not more so. But it is only the size of a walnut! This is truly amazing—"

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. Good job… My turn." Rodney pulled a stool around to where the robot lay stretched out. He connected a few wires from the robot to his laptop and started typing away.

"_Doctor McKay?"_ Dr. Keller's voice came over the radio. Rodney's head snapped up.

"Yes?" He answered nervously.

"_You need to come down to the infirmary; we have a problem." _

"What kind of problem?" Rodney demanded.

"_The kind involving Colonel Sheppard." _

"Crap…"

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Elizabeth crossed her arms tightly, hugging herself. She stared at the screen. _Why him? Why did things always go wrong with him?_ Rodney scurried up behind her with various instruments in his arms.

A random nurse, safely encased in a hazmat suit, milled about around Sheppard's bed in the isolation room, checking vitals and scribbling things down on his chart. Weir's eyes flicked over to another screen that showed a close up of Sheppard's blood work; small circular metallic objects floating around in it.

"A nanovirus?" Weir asked to no one in particular. Dr. Keller walked up behind her.

"Not exactly. It hasn't spread to any one that has come in contact with him. We double checked. And I'm not exactly sure what its doing to him but as you can see, we have him in quarantine."

Elizabeth turned to the doctor with a raised eyebrow. "You're sure this hasn't infected anyone else?"

"Yes. We followed the proper quarantine procedures." Keller assured her.

"Well that's something good." Weir sighed. "Rodney, do you have anything on the nanovirus yet?"

Rodney turned to her with a jubilant smile. "It's a communication device!" He said with a touch of awe in his voice.

"How can it be a communication device?" Teyla turned away from the observation screen to stare at McKay.

"Ok, I don't know how it all works but as far as I can tell, the nanites are communicating with the robot. Maybe it was a way for the ancients to control them, I don't know. But anyway, that's why they aren't spreading to anyone else. This really is pretty amazing—"

"Rodney! Can we get rid of them now?" Weir asked.

"Well, no. I don't know how all of this is connected to his brain. I need to study this more." McKay's fingers twitched against his laptop keyboard.

"Hurry." Elizabeth ordered in a firm voice.

"I'm going as fast as I can." Rodney insisted.

"_McKay!"_ Zelenka's voice shouted over the radio.

"What Radek!?" Rodney snapped.

"_It's fixed!"_

McKay's mouth curled up in a smile. Then he glanced over at the observation screen to see Sheppard's wide eyed gaze as a hazmat clad nurse attempted to change the bandage on his face. "That's great Radek," McKay muttered. "but I have more important things to do right now. Keep me posted."

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Radek glanced at his watch. The glowing digits blinked out the time; 1:13 am. He yawned and rubbed a hand down his face. A glance at the coffee pot told him that it was empty… again. Not only was it empty, he had used up the quickly dwindling supplies over two hours ago with the last pot of coffee. He huffed and looked over at the robot, which was now propped upright on a rough and quickly made stand. The two dull orange orbs that served as eyes stared unseeingly off into space. Two big metal hands hung down listlessly.

Patrick. The thing was magnificent to say the least. Well…as far as the computer nerds and sci-fi geeks were concerned. As the slow repairs were made, they cleaned away more dirt and grime than Radek had thought would be possible. Every nook and cranny had gunk caked in it. But now, all the rust had been buffed away and the dirt cleaned out. Now the metal exoskeleton gleamed under the bright work lights.

Zelenka's chest swelled with pride and he smiled. They had done good work so far, a little rest was in order. He turned to his assistants and clapped his hands to get their attention. "Tebe pocínovat celek běh teď. My ar platí do člen určitý noc… dobře, ráno. Spát dobře každý."

"Blaho ráno." Chirped a blond woman as she trotted out of the room. Zelenka gathered his things and took one last look at the robot before turning off the lights and sauntering out the door without another thought or glance.

In the silent darkness, a whirring noise suddenly filled the air. It was soft, hardly recognizable. In fact, it was undetectable by the human ear. The subtle noise paused for a few moments then started again. Then the blackness of the lab was lit for a few brief seconds with two soft, orange circles of light. Then there was darkness again.

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Sheppard was feeling anxious. No one was telling him anything and that was making anxious. And angry. They were all treating him like he _wasn't_ the military commander of Atlantis. He was no stranger to disrespect and rarely took offence to it but this was beyond his level of acceptance.

He was infected with a nanovirus, they had told him. It wasn't doing him any harm at this point. In fact, they saw no more need for hazmat. They had told him. They were doing all they could to fix him but, as normal, there were complications.

They had told him.

And Patrick? Nothing. They told him nothing. They were most certainly hiding something from him. And Mörder? That subject earned him several raised eyebrows and a few 'Gee-I-sorry-he's-losing-his-mind' looks but nothing more than that.

John was sick of being in the infirmary. He was sick of feeling helpless. He was sick of the pitiful looks he got from everyone that walked in to see him. John wanted out. He wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere _not_ in Atlantis.

For a moment, John surprised himself. Not want to be in Atlantis? How could he even think that? But it was true. He didn't want to be away forever but something sinister was brewing and he could _feel _it. John wanted to get out before that happened. But then, he couldn't very well leave everyone else here while he turned tail and ran. Or could he? The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to get away. _Something_ didn't feel right and some inner instinct told him to run. But that instinct felt alien. As he felt the need to flee, he also felt the need to stay and protect his home from the foreboding danger.

This was why John was perched precariously on the edge of his bed, trying to ride out the wave of pain the swirled up from his chest. He grunted once to finalize his decision and hopped off onto his good foot. John hobbled as quickly as he could, taking a well known escape rout out of the infirmary. He made a pit stop at his room to change clothes then started for McKay's lab. There was a nearly undetectable force urging him on. It told him that his answers would be there.

Sheppard quickened his pace until he was grunting with the effort of holding back his pain. But his efforts paid off as the door to McKay's lab came into view. As he neared the door, it hissed open. The lab itself was dark. John hesitated in the threshold as he glared at the darkness. Then the sound of movement caught his attention.

"John?" A timid voice called out to him from inside the room. There was great crash as a heavy metallic object toppled to the floor, sounding like it took to a lot more with it on the way down. The voice though was familiar and it only took John a split second to remember it.

"Patrick!" He called to his friend. Then he remembered the lights and turned them on. Sheppard searched around the now well lit room and froze. "Patrick?"

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**As always, TBC**

A/N: I swear, i didn't use the nano thing just because of the latest episode of Atlantis...i had the idea in my head before i watched that...

A/N: I thought ya'll should know I was _this_ close to writing a 'please review' song so I could sing it to you with a band of wayward mariachi's from the local psych ward and then you would just _have_ to review…then I thought I would save you the pain of that and just straight up ask for the reviews…you owe me…


	8. Chapter 8

The human was still alive. This was so because he felt him. This was fact. Human's liked to deceive. They even deceived unintentionally. But this was not deception. He knew this. He knew it because they told him so. _They _did not lie nor deceive because _they _were not human and they could not possibly lie. That was because they were like him; perfect.

They told him that the humans' heart was pumping. They told him that the humans' oxygen levels were falling due to chest congestion perhaps. He thought that it was chest congestion because the temperature in this black pit was a mere 59.2 degrees Fahrenheit and cold water combined with cold air led to sickness. This was his reasoning. His reasoning was perfect.

He would kill the meat bag this time. He was sure of it. Years upon years of water had damaged his cortex preventing him from reprogramming as normal. But he was perfect. He found a way to reprogram. And he had found a way to repair the damage. _All_ of the damage.

Now it was time for the human to die.

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Ronon dropped down into the darkness with a grunt of determination. The water seemed to have gotten colder since he was last down here. And the air seemed to have gotten thicker. The darkness seemed to be as thick as tar and was only barely pushed back by the meager flashlight in Ronon's hands.

He felt as though something thick and oily was crawling down his spine. Ronon froze in the darkness and simply scanned the area with his other senses. There was a hint of sulfur in the dank air. The smell caused alarms to go off in his head. Then he heard the water sloshing quietly off to his left. Ronon whipped the light around and found nothing but water. But he knew something was down here. He could _feel_ it. Something growled low and menacing... and mechanical. Ronon held his gun ready with one hand while his other hand reached back to clasp a large hunting knife.

A heavy dull clanking noise came up behind him. Ronon was moving a split second after he heard it. However, in half the time it took him to turn around, a heavy metal arm curled around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Then he was airborne and, before he knew it, Ronon's head became well acquainted with a cold and rather unyielding wall.

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Teyla glared at the small bottle sitting on her bedside table. She sighed and pressed a palm to her forehead. She really hated taking medication but her head was felt like it was being split with an ax. She thought maybe a walk would clear her head so she picked herself up and pulled a decorative shawl across her shoulders. With one final unsure glance at the bottle of pills, she trotted out the door and down the hall in the direction of both Rodney's lab and the infirmary. Teyla decided then that she would visit Colonel Sheppard. As she wandered down the hallway, she could see the glow of lights coming from the doorway to the lab. She suddenly thought that McKay should join her in her visit to their team leader.

Without bothering to knock, she stepped into the room, her lips already forming the words she was going to say. But, out of shock, no sound came out of her open mouth. She merely stood within the threshold with both her mouth and her eyes wide open.

Sheppard stood with his back towards her. He was facing the robot that was standing slightly hunched over next to a toppled over metal stand. The robot, Patrick, cocked its head as it gazed at John. Teyla could easily picture the emotion displayed in its cold metal features. She could also feel the thick tension that permeated the very air.

John was shaking.

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Patrick was elated. John had felt him calling and had come. But he was angry. That much Patrick could decipher from the humans rapid heartbeat and the tightness in his face. This could have been fear but Patrick knew what John was like when he was afraid. Fear gave off a distinct pheromone that Patrick could detect. He knew this because that's what _she _made him to be. _She _had made him perfect. Well, nearly perfect.But _she _would be proud of him. He had finished his own programming based on his own observations on the humans that often occupied the room above his home. Yes, _she _would be proud.

But John was not proud. John was angry. Who was he angry with? He was not angry when the lights were off. Was John angry at Patrick? Patrick certainly hoped not. He did not know how to make John happy again. But he would try. He would try because John was his friend. Patrick knew John was his friend because John told him.

Patrick would make John happy again.

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Sheppard's mind was blank. Completely. He could only stare at the robot. It stared back at him with a look of joy that slowly morphed into confusion. John mentally slapped himself for thinking that a robot could show either joy _or _confusion. As his mind slowly started working again, John honestly could say he didn't know what to think. He was in shock.

Then he was angry at his team for not telling him. Not only angry at his team but at Elizabeth, Dr. Keller and whoever else knew about the freaking robot. He felt betrayed by their lack of trust in his mental capacity. Or was he offended because Mörder had tried so hard to tear his mental capacity apart? But then John didn't care about his mental capacity at the moment. At the moment, he was just angry.

But he didn't know why he was angry. Did Patrick being a robot change the fact that he…_it_…saved his life?

John realized he was shaking. It disturbed him. And he realized that he was quickly losing energy which only added to his quaking muscles. In fact, blackness was starting to edge its way in around his field of perception. He then decided that sitting down would be best. That decision was well accepted by his body as it simply collapsed on the floor. He had one last fleeting thought before he passed out; _Oh crap…not again…_

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**TBC!**

**Since I always beg ya'll for reviews my thanks for those reviews is well overdue… sooo…Thank you! You have made me very happy indeed!**


	9. Chapter 9

Teyla rushed forward to her fallen leader but Patrick was too quick. The robot darted in fast enough to grab the man before he hit the floor. Then it shoved Teyla aside and darted back into the furthest corner, hugging John close to its cold metal body.

"Patrick…" Teyla scooted forward on her knees, hands outstretched. "John is not well. You may hurt him." She told the robot. Patrick snapped its head up, placed John to one side, and hunched over onto its hands like a cat waiting to pounce.

"You hurt me." Patrick said accusingly.

"Yes…yes we did." Teyla admitted. "But do you know why?" She found it unnerving that the lifeless orange eyes could implement such guilt.

"You do not trust me."

"We were trying to save John's life. _You _would not trust us and we had to act. Do you understand me Patrick?" The robot just stared at her with those big eyes as it processed what she said. Teyla was about to call for help on her radio when Patrick spoke.

"You are his friend?" It finally asked.

"Yes." Teyla answered. "Are you?" She challenged. Patrick hesitated before answering.

"Yes."

Teyla smiled. "Well then, shall we be friends as well?" She offered. Patrick's head cocked to one side as it looked at her.

"Friends do not betray each other." It said. Teyla winced, thinking her last hope of settling this peacefully was gone.

"Friends make mistakes. When I betrayed you, I was not your friend. But now I am. Can you forgive me Patrick?" Then tension was palpable as Patrick assessed her claim. Suddenly, he looked up at her, alarmed.

"He's coming." Patrick said in a small voice. It positioned itself in front of Sheppard; its stance protective.

"Who is coming Patrick?" Teyla demanded, a feeling of dread shooting through her gut.

"Mörder." The robot whispered the name as if saying it aloud would evoke some horrid fate. It walked carefully over to the doorway, skirting past Teyla undecidedly, and placed a heavy hand over the control crystals. The two orange orbs became dull for a few minutes. The door hissed shut. Teyla took the opportunity to run over to John side, squatting down next to him and looking him over as if she could evaluate his state by sight alone. She glanced back at the robot to find him in the same position.

"Teyla?"

A weak voice pulled her attention back towards the floor. John was staring at her with something close to annoyance on his face. "Please tell me I didn't faint."

She smiled sympathetically. "You merely…were overwhelmed." He rolled his eyes and made a face.

"Can we not tell people I fainted?" He asked. He looked almost comical from his position on the floor as he stared up at her. Her grin grew.

"We shall see." She said with an evil glint in her eye. John's eyes narrowed.

"Are you going to wipe out my candy bar stash for this…again?" He asked in all seriousness.

"We shall see." Teyla helped him to sit up and he finally saw the robot at the door.

"So that's Patrick?" He said it as more of a statement rather than a question. Teyla nodded. Sheppard sighed. "What is he doing?"

"I do not know; it has been standing that way for several minutes." Teyla explained.

"It…" John muttered. Then he stood on shaky legs. "Patrick." He called in a strong voice. The things eyes instantly lit up and its head swiveled towards him. "What are you doing?" John demanded.

"Making sure Mörder can't come in." Patrick explained. "Sheis helping me lock the door. But we are still unsure it will hold him."

"Who is she?" John asked.

"The city." Patrick said simply. "She is helping me." Teyla and John shared a shocked expression.

"You can talk to Atlantis?" Teyla asked.

"Yes. I can—"

"Wait…" John interrupted. "I thought you killed Mörder." Patrick shifted nervously.

"I did not kill him as well as I thought." The robot admitted. John snorted a humorless laugh.

"I guess not. How do you know he's coming?" He asked. As if on cue, a loud, sharp banging reached their ears, coming from the direction of the closed door. Patrick backed up several steps until it was stretching to keep a hand on the control crystals. John's body stiffened. Teyla reached up to tap her radio and started to frantically explain the situation to whoever was listening. A muffled yelling could be heard from beyond the door.

"_Johnny boy! I'm coming to get you Johnny!" _The heavy metallic voice seemed to push its way past the solid walls. Teyla glanced over at John, expecting him to answer the voice with a cocky comeback. She expected him to treat this threat with a certain carefree attitude that she had come to know so well. But his face showed no optimism now. In fact, his eyes held such a fierce, deep hatred that he almost seemed to drill holes in the wall with the intensity. The muscles lining his jaw became tight as he clenched them together. Mörder started laughing then. A deep, gruntal, mocking laugh.

"_Your scared boy. Your scared senseless. Oh and now the hero is getting angry! Well come and get me boy… Come out and get me!" _ Mörder taunted. The banging on the door increased until it sounded as if Mörder were setting off small explosions on the other side of it.

"They are coming Colonel Sheppard." Teyla assured him. But he wasn't listening to her. Mörder was getting to him. "John!" She said more firmly this time. His eyes flicked over to her once. Good enough. "Major Lorne is coming with his team." She told him. "Do you understand me John? Help is on its way."

Sheppard turned his glare to Patrick who glared right back at him. They stood there for a few moments, just staring. Finally, John turned to Teyla. "Help won't get here in time. I need to try something, stay back in the corner. And I mean that as an order Teyla, stay out of the way." He said it all in a rush.

"What are you planning on doing John?" Teyla demanded, feeling a cold dread crawl up into her gut. His jaw muscles twitched.

"Just stay out of the way. Don't try to follow me." John nodded at Patrick. "I'm ready, open the door."

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**Dun Dun DUN!! TBC**

**And, you know, you **_**could**_** be nice and leave a review…go one, click that little purple button…you know you want to…**


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I am so so sorry that this took so long! You wouldn't believe all the crap that has sucked away my time…

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Lorne and his team ran hard and fast. After Teyla's frantic message, they wasted no time. Armed with P-90's and wraith stunners they raced off to find their foe. Lorne sorely wished that he had Ronon and his blaster with them but the big man was no where to be found. In fact, Lorne had been on his way to assemble his team to go and check on him after they failed to raise Ronon on the radio. But then Elizabeth decided to send another team in order to free up the second most experienced team on Atlantis so they could go do battle with a droid.

A freaking droid. Something right out of Star Wars. Or worse, the Terminator. Lorne had visions of turning the corner to find ol' Arnold holding a shot gun to the door and issuing threats in a ridiculous Austrian accent.

Lorne and his team stuffed into a transporter that whisked them off to another part of the city. It opened on a long hallway that the team sprinted down. Lorne tapped his ear piece as he went. "We are almost to you Teyla." He assured her. The reply that came back was frantic.

"_You must hurry; I do not think Colonel Sheppard is planning on waiting for you to get here."_

Evan cursed. "What do you mean he's not going to wait?" That man was a hero but also one heck of an idiot sometimes.

"_He just commanded the robot to open the door."_

"Can you hold him back?"

"_I think—" _There was a terrible screeching noise. Then Teyla finally muttered, _"Oh no…"_

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John didn't know what he was doing. He really didn't. All he knew was that he had to draw Mörder off or else the thing was going to kill everyone. The robot, for some unknown reason was after him, there was no need to get anyone else involved.

Except maybe Patrick.

He gave a few hasty instructions to Teyla then, after gathering what little courage he had left in his splintered mind, John nodded to Patrick. "I'm ready, open the door." He said in a voice that betrayed his nerves.

Patrick glanced at him once then nodded.

The door slid open.

A blur of sliver and red shot forward, barreling into Patrick's black and silver frame. A horrendous metallic screech filled the air. The two robots rolled on the ground twice before stopping, Patrick pinning Mörder on the ground. In a split second, John realized just what he was up against.

Mörder was easily twice the size of Patrick. It seemed to be built for combat with heavy looking plates of armor covering all the vulnerable parts of its body. Big curved blades ran down the length of its back. It seemed more animal than humanoid. The whole build of the thing seemed tense and ready for battle.

That thing was staring at him with cold red eyes.

"Time to die boy." Came the voice John had learned to hate.

That snapped him out of his momentary shock. Sheppard leapt forward, vaulting over the two robots; landing heavily on his injured ankle. He half limped, half sprinted out the door and down the hall. Pain didn't register as he ran; it couldn't register. He didn't have time for it to register. Patrick wasn't supposed to keep the other robot at bay for long, just long enough for John to get clear of the rest of the population in Atlantis.

He had no real plan other than to run and run fast. John cursed himself for the lack of a plan but it wasn't like he had hours to contemplate how to stop a crazy murderous robot. But he would think of something. He had to.

A crash echoed down the hallway.

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Patrick struggled to hold Mörder down. The other robot was stronger, much stronger than himself. He was made for battle. Patrick was not. But Patrick was loyal. And he was determined. Patrick was determined not to let Mörder kill John.

But John was foolish. He had ordered Patrick not to fight Mörder. He had ordered Patrick to stay behind. John was underestimating his enemy. That was going to get him killed. Patrick could not allow that to happen.

Mörder suddenly heaved up, launching Patrick into the nearest wall. By the time Patrick was able to pick himself up, the other robot was gone. He could hear the heavy footfalls careening down the hallway.

Patrick made the decision then that he must not follow the instructions that were given him. But to ignore those instructions, he had to reprogram. That would take time but he had little choice in the matter. John needed his help and for Patrick to help him, he must reprogram.

With a final longing glance out the door, he shut down all but his primary systems and went to work.

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John's muscles started to shake as he continued his mad dash but he couldn't stop. Sounds of pursuit were finally reaching his ears. And yet he still had no plan. His mind was blank. The sound of his bare feet slapping the floor seemed to be all that filled his brain. It was a steady cadence. _Slap. Slap. Slap. Skid…_

His ankle gave out and he stumbled forward, his clammy soles skidding across the cold floor. But John managed to stay upright and pushed forward again. He got the distinct feeling that he was running to his death.

But then at least Mörder wouldn't be after him anymore. It was almost a comforting thought. If he was dead, Mörder couldn't torment him. But if he was dead, then Mörder would be tormenting someone else. That idea got stuck in his mind, coming in from out of nowhere. If only John could find away to stop Mörder!

Sheppard tried to concentrate on the robot, seeking some weakness that he could exploit in some way. He glanced out of a window as he sprinted past it. The ocean shimmered in the sunlight. And then it hit him.

Mörder was not made for swimming.

If he could somehow lure him off a pier, John doubted the robot would be able to keep itself afloat with its heavy metal frame. Unfortunately, the only way John could possible get the thing in the water would be to either drag it in or get it to charge at him and straight into the water. Forget trying to save himself, it was all about stopping the homicidal droid.

Quite suddenly, what felt like a tone of bricks ploughed into his back, shooting him forward. John's breath whooshed out of his lungs and a breathless moan snaked out of his lips. He turned his head to see Mörder staring him down. The droid was standing tall, trying to be intimidating and fully succeeding. John tried to push himself up but fell forward as a shaft of pain shot through his chest and back. Mörder chuckled and walked to him. A clawed metal hand reached down to pull John up by his black shirt. Sheppard couldn't hide the yelp of pain as he was roughly pulled upright. The robot made a snorting sound.

"Weakling…" It muttered. Its cold red eyes glared into his own.

"What do you want with me?" John growled.

"I want you to—"

"Die, I know." John snapped. "But _why?_ Why me?!" John was stalling for time. The robot cocked its head and simply stared at John, refusing to answer. There was a terrible moment of silence in which Mörder's grip slowly tightened on his shoulders and all John could hear was his heart careening against his ribcage and the breath hissing in and out of his clenched teeth.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Pain erupted in agonizing clarity. John glanced down, in shock, to find a massive curved blade embedded in his abdomen. Mörder gave it a final thrust for good measure and a low, breathless moan came from Johns lips. Time slowed even more so that John saw everything in snap shot frames. A drop of blood slowly dripped down, taking its time as it splashed onto the floor. John's legs felt like jelly as he stared at the blood, now slowly forming a puddle on the ground.

Mörder was laughing at him. The massive robot jerked the blade free and time sped up again. John fell first to his knees, glaring up at the droid in shock. Then he slowly fell forward, into darkness.

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**TBC….** And what's this? Oh darn, what an evil cliffhanger! Ain't I a stinker…


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** This is the last chapter (finally!) I warn you, the ending is a bit awkward but that's on purpose…I like the awkwardness of it…but I wanna know what you think about…are awkward endings something I should really consider with future stories?...

On to the story!!

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Mörder watched the human fall to the ground, the clothes on its body soaking up its own blood. But the organic _thing_ was still alive, grasping onto life with by its fingertips, so to speak. Its heart was still pumping. Weakly perhaps, but pumping none the less. Mörder considered just killing the human now. He could picture the human's skull being crushed under his foot, the fragile bone exploding under the pressure like a bug. It wasn't necessary; the human would die without any further assistance on Mörder behalf. It would be a wasted gesture. Did he have time for a wasted gesture? Yes, he supposed he did.

"Do not move!" A voice commanded him. Mörder turned sharply, ready for an attack. But it was merely the other robot, Patrick. The small creature stood defiantly.

"Stay out of this Patrick." Mörder growled.

"I must save John." Patrick insisted.

"Johnny's gotta die." Mörder insisted right back.

-----------------

Patrick stood his ground. "I must save him." He said again. Mörder pulled himself up to full height and took a step forward. But Patrick was not afraid anymore. He would do what he must. The adrenaline levels spiked in John's body and Patrick new he was conscious again. He turned to look at the human, finding that the human was looking right back at him. John was staring at him; hard. Perhaps he was trying to repeat what they had accomplished back in the laboratory. Patrick turned his full attention to him.

-----------------

Ronon crept forward in a crouch, peering carefully around the corner. He saw the big robot, the one Teyla hurriedly described to him over the radio that he confiscated from his own rescue party. Then Ronon saw his CO slumped against the wall in a pool of blood. The robot was talking to someone else that Ronon couldn't see. He assumed it was the smaller robot, Patrick. If the one robot was talking, then it would be distracted. This may be the best chance he had to attack. He took it.

With his gun decidedly _not_ set to stun, Ronon leapt forward and attacked. Shot after shot, he attacked, not giving the robot time to counter attack. The blasts ploughed into it, forcing it backward. Bits of super heated metal started to fly off in different directions. But then the robot recovered from its shock and dodged the next round of shots with an unnatural ease for something that had just been shot half a dozen times and _wasn't_ a wraith. The robot was working its way towards him, taking the occasional shot but still coming on. Ronon growled in frustration.

The robot let lose a heavy metallic roar and suddenly barreled forward, arms extended, grasping for him. Ronon threw himself to the side but it was a wasted move as the robot snagged his wrist and hurled him forward with a sickening whip like crack. Ronon slumped to the ground with a groan as a white hot pain flared up his arm and down his hand which was lying at an unnatural angle. He gritted his teeth and pushed past the pain.

The robot took slow deliberate steps towards him, its stance displaying its anger. Ronon groped around for his gun but then spied it lying on the other side of the robot. He pulled out a knife and held it ready, not willing to die without a fight however futile the effort may be.

He pushed himself into a crouch, brandished the knife and growled at the robot. Mörder simply chuckled and spread its arms out wide, taunting Ronon. Then it lowered its head ever so slightly and its arms became tense as unseen metal parts tightened for battle. Ronon thought better of his plan to let the robot come to him and instead he threw his knife. It landed with a metallic _thunk_, the hilt sticking out of the robots torso. Mörder hesitated, seemingly surprised by this new development. But the hesitation only lasted for a few seconds.

Then Mörder was charging, its big feet thudding on the floor. But someone else was charging as well. The sound of it coming from the direction of Ronon's fallen CO. He hastily turned his head in that direction and saw Patrick charging forward, eyes locked on Mörder. The other robot saw it too and changed its course, its feet slipping ever so slightly on the slick floor. But its change was too late as Patrick plowed into the other robot with a resounding crash that sounded like an explosion.

Before Ronon realized what was happening, both robots were before him one moment and then gone the next, a sudden breeze drifting in through a shattered window that Ronon didn't even know was there in the first place. But he couldn't care less at the moment because at the moment, all he was thinking about was Sheppard. He crawled over to the other man who was staring listlessly at the floor while he bled out on the ground.

Ronon knew immediately that he needed to stop the bleeding. He ripped off a piece of cloth from John's soaked tee shirt and wrapped one of Johns fists in it then pushed it into the gaping wound in an attempt to plug up the hole. Sheppard groaned and tried to pull his hand back out but Ronon held it fast while he moved to press a wad of cloth to the smaller hole in his back, ignoring the pain that flared up in his wrist. John's face twisted into a tight grimace and he shifted awkwardly to the side.

"Hold still." Ronon ordered. John turned listless eyes to him.

"Easy…for you…to say…"He muttered. "don't 'ave…a freakin…fist 'n you're…stomach."

Ronon flashed him a quick grin. "The more blood you lose, the longer it'll take for you to recover and the longer I have to wait until I can beat you up again."

"Ha ha." John snapped. "Funny." He sucked in a breath as he rode out another wave of pain.

A voice buzzed in Ronon's ear. He glanced at Sheppard. "You gonna pull your hand out or can I let it go?" He asked. Sheppard narrowed his eyes.

"I'll be good mother." He growled. Ronon nodded and let go to reach up and tap his radio. "Yeah?"

"_We're almost to you sir."_ Lorne informed him. Ronon glanced down at Sheppard whose eyes were glazed over.

"Hurry, he's lost a lot of blood."

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John grasped onto consciousness with all the strength he had left. But try as he might, it slowly slipped from his grasp. It slipped away like the blood was seeping out of his body. It was too much blood. Far too much. John could _feel_ his life ebbing away as the crimson puddle on the floor grew larger. And it was agonizing. This type of death was too slow. He'd rather take a bullet to his head that wait and suffer while he bled out on the ground.

Ronon said something that didn't quite register in his brain. He felt his hand being pushed in further and he moaned from the pain it caused. So much pain. It was making him delirious. The next thing that registered in his brain was that he was on a gurney and moving fast with people running beside him. He could still feel his blood dripping away and glanced down to see the white sheets on the gurney now red with his blood.

With that last image in his minds eye, he finally slid into blackness.

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Rodney typed a few things on his keyboard then stopped to look over at Sheppard. The man was as white as a ghost and seemed to get lost amidst the various tubes and wires that were attached to him as he lay on the infirmary bed. The man had yet to awaken from his last ordeal and even as much as Rodney had become accustomed to waiting, every hour then went by was still maddening. He angrily typed few more things on his keyboard then stopped again to glare at Sheppard. "Wake up already Colonel…" he muttered.

"Rodney?" Teyla's voice floated over to him from the doorway. She walked over to him and pulled a char around to sit on the other side of the bed.

"I was just…complaining…I guess." Rodney admitted. Teyla gave him a sympathetic smile. Then she put her hand on Sheppard's.

"Has there been any change?" She asked.

"No…they're still pumping him full of blood." Rodney said with a sigh. "He lost so much of it…"

"Rodney…" Teyla's voice held some excitement.

"What?" He demanded. She pointed to the colonel. Sheppard's eyes were cracked open; two thin slits of hazel on a pale white face.

"John?" Teyla grasped his hand a little tighter. His eyes rolled lazily to gaze at her. His lips slowly turned upward in a lopsided, Han Solo grin.

"Hey…"He mumbled.

"Welcome back to the land of the living Sheppard." Rodney quipped.

-----------------

_**Three Days Later**_

John slowly rolled the bowl of soup in his hands, enjoying the warmth it gave off. He slowly, deliberately, lifted the spoon and scooped up some of the bowls contents then, just as slowly and deliberately, he pushed the spoon into his mouth. He was procrastinating. To make matters worse, he was procrastinating a _thought_. He didn't want to think about…well…he didn't want to think. Eating gave him something to put his mind to. Soup. Chicken noodle soup. This particular batch was lacking chicken however. In the whole bowl, there were only a few pieces of it. Maybe he'd get Teyla to talk to the cooks and remedy the problem. He'd send Ronon but he liked the cooks and didn't want them scared out of their wits over a bowl of soup.

John stared at the soup, fighting against his own mind. He breathed a sigh of relief when Rodney walked into the infirmary.

"Yes Colonel, you have to be smarter than the soup." The scientist said sarcastically. John narrowed his eyes and glared at the man in mock anger.

"Very funny." He snapped. Then he shoved the loaded spoon into his mouth. Rodney shifted nervously at the end of his bed. "What?" John asked.

"Its just…um…no one told you what…um…what happened to the robot, did they?" Rodney asked. John stiffened. He realized his friend was trying to help but he didn't want to know. But if he told Rodney that, then the man would want to know why. John just slowly shook his head.

"Well, um, from what we can tell, Patrick pushed Mörder out the window and they fell into the ocean. We haven't exactly been able to find them. We think that they've sunken down to far for the jumper to reach." Rodney explained. John just stared at him, not knowing what to say. McKay continued. "So, obviously, Mörder won't be a problem anymore. But we won't be able to recover Patrick so…" He stopped and shifted nervously.

"Thanks McKay." John said stiffly. The other man nodded and settled down onto the bed next to him.

"So…" Rodney said, drawing out the word.

"So what?"

"So how are you feeling about Patrick? I'm pretty sure I know how you feel towards Mörder but what about the other one?" He asked.

"I…I don't know." John said honestly. "He…it…saved my life but…I don't know McKay…"

Rodney's head bobbed up and down. "Ok… So how's the soup today?" John visibly relaxed into the bed.

"There's not enough chicken in it." He complained.

"Oh, well that sucks…"

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**Fin.**


End file.
